Chapter Eight #2
She didn’t look at any of the other passengers in the boat for the remainder of the ride.
She sat quietly—happily, if she was honest about it—with Evie leaning on her and watched the lake and all its occupants.
She ran a little monologue in her head, continuing what she and Evie had started, the game they’d always played whenever they were out in public.
What’s the story with that couple? What’s that woman thinking right now?
Where do you think that group of friends know each other from?
And the whole time, she felt the warmth of Evie’s body next to her, Evie’s palm flat on her thigh, Evie’s leg pressed against hers.
The delicious familiarity of it made it almost feel like no time had passed.
None. She and Evie were together, and they were on vacation with their friends like they were every summer.
And it felt so good, so perfect that Rowan felt tears spring into her eyes.
It was too soon that they were chugging their way back to their own dock, and internally, she gave a sad sigh.
Rowan would have preferred it if they just floated around the lake forever, but that was not to be.
She thought about Claire for the first time since Evie had fallen asleep, and while she wouldn’t have been sad if Claire saw them in their current state, she didn’t want Evie to have to deal with it.
“Hey,” she said quietly, giving Evie a gentle shake. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.”
Evie took in a deep breath, as people did when they woke from a sleep, and blinked several times at Rowan.
“Oh, God,” she said quietly, looking down at her own body, how close it was to Rowan, her hand on Rowan’s leg. Her eyes went wide, and her cheeks tinted a light pink. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
The words hit Rowan like a blow, which, of course they did, and she gave Evie a sad smile. “No worries. I didn’t mind. At all.” And that was the truthiest of truths, wasn’t it?
“I didn’t even realize I was that sleepy, but it happens sometimes with—” The embarrassment was so plain in her voice that it squeezed Rowan’s heart, and she put her hand over Evie’s.
“Hey.” She waited until Evie met her gaze. Reluctantly. “Stop. It’s fine. I said I didn’t mind, and I meant it. Okay?”
Evie’s dark eyes bored into hers, and there was a wetness there, as if she was close to tears.
“Seriously.”
Finally, with a swallow and a nod, Evie whispered, “Okay. Thank you.”
“Any time.”
And then they were next to the dock and Stevie was jumping out to tie them off, and the ride was over. Back to reality. Damn it.
Evie was off the boat first, grabbing Stevie’s hand for help, then hurrying up the dock. Rowan loitered as the rest of them got off, and when she reached for Stevie’s hand, it was held tight.
“Everything okay?” Stevie asked, her question more loaded than a huge plate of nachos.
“Fine. I was just living in the past for a bit there.”
Stevie squeezed her hand. “You’re sure?”
Rowan gave her a sad smile. “Yeah. Promise.”
Stevie took another beat to search her face, and Rowan let her. It wasn’t like she could ever hide anything from Stevie anyway, so she let her look, and when she was finally satisfied, she let go of Rowan’s hand. “Okay.”
Stevie’s arm around Rowan’s shoulders, they headed up to the house.
The fire that night was lively. Sara was there, and she always brought a new injection of life to any gathering. It’s just how she was.
Rowan sat across the fire from her and watched her and Stevie together, how natural they were, how obvious their love was, how they complemented each other in every way.
Stevie was a handsome masc, long and lean and muscular, thanks to her job.
Light hair and eyes, and a wisdom in those eyes that was hard to miss.
Her heart was always right there for everybody to see—she pulled no punches.
She hid nothing about herself. With Stevie, what you saw was what you got.
Sara was the opposite in coloring. Her dark hair and eyes contrasted with Stevie’s perfectly.
Her nose was a bit large for her face, but it worked, and her smile was gentle and infectious, almost ever present.
It was hard not to feel safe and joyful around Sara.
The two of them together were like magic, and not for the first time, Rowan found herself envious of their relationship. They were #couplegoals all the way.
Next to Sara sat Evie. She’d been kind of quiet for the remainder of the day, and while she’d seemed to avoid talking to Rowan, she had not avoided looking at her.
At least half a dozen times, Rowan had glanced up from whatever she was doing—reading, listening to a conversation, giving her opinion on something—and had caught Evie’s gaze on her.
Almost every time, Evie had looked away quickly, though there was once or twice she’d smiled sadly before shifting her focus.
It was confusing, to say the least, and Rowan kept thinking that she probably needed to address it at some point.
But not tonight. Tonight was for catching up with Sara, relaxing with her friends, having a non-alcoholic beer, and making s’mores.
After the boat ride, she’d promised herself to just enjoy the rest of the day and to try not to dwell.
Tall order, but she was doing her best.
The marshmallow she was toasting burst into flames.
“Hey!” Lizzie shouted at her. “I thought you didn’t like char-mallows.”
“Damn it.” Rowan shook her head. “I zoned. Sorry, Justine. Here.” She handed the stick off to Lizzie, who took the blackened marshmallow, happily stuffed it in her mouth, then loaded the stick with another one and handed it back. With a glance to Justine, Rowan said, “I got this one. Promise.”
Justine smiled at her. “I trust you.”
Man, she was not herself tonight, and she was only now beginning to understand the effect Evie’d had on her earlier.
The closeness. The warmth. The trust. Because she didn’t think Evie would’ve allowed herself to fall asleep on a person she didn’t trust. Across the fire, she met dark eyes, Evie looking at her again.
This time, though, she didn’t look away.
She held Rowan’s gaze, lifted her beer to her lips, and swigged.
Rowan was the one who broke the connection because honestly?
It was turning her the hell on. That flutter low in her body had kicked up a notch or five, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
Giving her head a shake, she did her best to tune in to a conversation.
Any conversation, please and thank you. Justine was talking to Sara about her café and a new advertising angle she was thinking about.
Jasmine and Claire were chatting about a new movie Rowan hadn’t seen.
Lizzie, Becca, and Stevie were analyzing the new players on the Buffalo Bills and how they thought they were going to do this season.
None of those conversations pulled her in.
She finished Justine’s marshmallow—perfectly golden brown this time—and handed it over, mentioned that she was going to hit the bathroom, and pushed to her feet. She loved her friends, and she loved being with them, but things were weird, she felt weird, and she needed a damn minute.